The cab driver surely felt bad for me, refusing the tip I pressed into his palm after he retreived my bags at the airport entrance. Despite not being in the states the airport still bustled with people traveling for the end of November holiday so I fell into the flow of crowd.

Once my larger bag was checked I moved on to the security checkpoint for my gate, tacking myself onto the end of the line. It moved at a snail's pace, and the longer I waited the more my heart ached over the rear window picture of them. I stepped from the queue, keeping my head down as I found a restroom, taking the risk of leaving my carry-on suitcase outside the door to sob in the safety of a stall.

The skin surrounding my eyes was even redder once I exited, my appearance catching the eye of a few women who offered me sympathetic looks and a tissue that was softer than the coarse toilet paper I'd been using to wipe my face.

My bag still sat amongst others against the wall next to the bathrooms, the TSA line calling me back. I ignored it, finding a space to sit on a ledge in front of a display of greenery and watching flyers pass as time droned on.

I'm not sure what kept me in that spot but I couldn't move from it, letting my legs dangle as I watched the crowd blur in front of me. I stayed until my bottom was numb and I had to shake my feet awake, still unable to be willed to board my flight.

"Seline?" My attention was taken by someone calling my name. I had to blink a few times to bring everything back into perspective, a blush rushing to my ears as Mateo approached me. We encountered one another enough through his friendship with Jungkook over the years for him to recognize me even with my appearance in a disarray. He tugged the bag that was slung over his shoulder up before getting closer. "Are you okay?"

I didn't want to talk to him, glancing at my phone before standing abruptly. "I'm fine. Sorry I'm late for my flight." I rushed away from him to the tail of the security line where I'd already been twice. It wasn't a lie. I was technically late for my flight, at that point having missed it by over two hours.

When the line started to move quicker I felt my heart rate rise with panic and I checked over my shoulder to make sure Mateo was gone before reclaiming my spot of seclusion.

It wasn't thirty minutes later that someone sat next to me. They were too close for the comfort of a stranger and when his hand reached out to fall on my knee, I recognized it immediately.

"Why are you still here?" Taehyung asked. I grabbed onto his hand too quickly, desperately, sinking my fingers between his with a tight grip.

He'd changed out of his clothes, freshly showered with his hair halfway dry and the aromatic scent of his soap lingering in the air. "I don't know how I'm supposed to leave with things like this." My answer came out with exasperation. "Why are you here?"

"Mateo called Jungkook." He answered, my reply coming before he could finish.

"And you came. See I can't leave it like this." My voice shook. "He hates me. Hell, you probably do too."

Taehyung sighed, standing and keeping my hand to use his strength to pull me up from where I sat. "We don't hate you." He repeated himself when I scoffed. "We don't, but you need to go help your dad."

I was losing it again, ignoring curious passersby who eyed the couple in the middle of an emotional goodbye. "But if I get on a plane out of here, it'll really be over." I was pleading for something too late to recover.

"You heard Jungkook. It's already over Seline." There was no malice in his tone. It was honesty, reality.

"But I didn't know. I didn't know that it was all about to end. I didn't know that yesterday when we were dancing that it'd be the last time we kissed. I don't even remember the last time I kissed Jungkook. It wasn't supposed to end like this." I ranted, fighting past the hiccup in my throat to get everything out.

Taehyung was quiet and I wondered what he was thinking, if his mind raced as much as mine. His eventual reply did little to soothe me and that's when I realized, I couldn't make it end pretty. There was no way to wrap a bow around the end of us that would satisfy me. Sometimes things ended without complete closure.

"You kissed Jungkook after you teased him about his glasses falling down his nose." He said matter-of-factly.

And then he kissed me for the last time, leaning down with slight hesitation because it was the most painful kiss we ever shared, filled with enough longing to last a lifetime.

He made me promise that I'd be on the next flight out before leaving and I was thankful that at least I had something. I caught his mouth curving into a small smile that I spotted when we looked over our shoulders at the same time for a final glance before peace walked away.

The next flight wouldn't part for a few hours and I was grateful for the tiniest of wins with the overnight layover in New York City before another flight the following morning that would get me to Minnesota.

I sent Faye a SOS text, giving little detail but letting her know that I'd be crashing her apartment for the night. She asked a few questions that I dodged, needing the hours between flying and arriving to sort through everything.

The man seated next to me on the plane dressed in a suit, barely batting an eye at me and focusing on the podcast that blared loud enough from his headphones to hear clearly. I'd listened to the drone of tips for alpha men for all of ten minutes before I turned to my phone, jumping down a rabbit hole of research on my dad's condition once we were among the clouds.

Despite being in the air for ten hours, only five went by with the time difference from one hemisphere to the next. I was physically and emotionally drained by the time I reclaimed my carry-on and deboarded.

In the back of the taxi on the way to Faye's and in the thick of late night traffic I found myself dozing, struggling to keep my eyes open and waking again every time my chin fell to my chest.

"We've arrived." The driver cleared his throat, looking back at where I'd been laying with my head resting against the window. He didn't bother with getting my bags out of the trunk, pulling away as soon as it closed and just as Faye came bustling from the building.

"Sel!" She kept an excited tone in seeing each other again, wrapping her arms around me and my bulky backpack in a deep embrace. While I was all cried out she could still feel the emotion in the way my body sank against her, holding on to me a second more than usual.

She helped me carry my bags up the three flights of stairs to her apartment before asking any questions. I wouldn't say her place was closet sized as was stereotyped for living in New York but the Brooklyn studio was smaller than our home in Chicago, still unquestionably hers with those same pops of color and eccentric decor I was used to.

"So where do we start? Talking it out? Wine? Food? Or a shower?" Her naturally arched eyebrow raised even higher, noticing that I'd stopped in front of her full length mirror to examine my straggled appearance from hours of crying and flying.

"A shower sounds good." I scratched my scalp, the dirty feeling that always came from traveling crawling over my skin.

I emerged from washing with the scent of her fruity soap and shampoo mixing with steam from the bathroom. I was warm in the cozy pajamas she left on the sink so that I didn't have to dig around in my suitcase, my hair plopped into an old t-shirt to dry.

The giant brown bag she pulled containers from crinkled as I joined her where she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, adjacent to the small couch and her bed, all placed strategically so that the studio didn't feel cramped. My mouth watered at the smell of the fried rice, egg rolls, chicken, and egg foo young she placed on the table. I forked rice into my mouth while she poured wine into stemless glasses until they were full.

I passed over the container in exchange for my drink, taking a long sip before slouching with my back against the couch.

"My entire life just fell apart." I professed, staring down at the burgundy liquid before taking another gulp. She didn't reply, giving me the space to fill the room with as much of an explanation as I needed to voice. "Dad's sick."

She set down the food she'd been holding to her chin at the news, wiping off her hands on a napkin before grabbing one of mine.

"That's why I'm back. I'm going to Rochester tomorrow morning to help take care of him during treatment. Everything else just blew up after that." I continued, following up with describing the chaos that ensued once my leave was known.

"They're really mad at you for going to take care of your dad?" She rolled her eyes, huffing in annoyance.

With any need for table manners gone in front of her I answered through a half full mouth. "That's not why they're mad. We really believed we could end the prophecy with them, but now I'll probably run into the next one sometime tomorrow." I matched her eye roll, saddened by the thought that followed. "As much as I wanted to tell them to come or that we'd work it out long distance, it's the same problem as it's been from the beginning. No one wants to be with someone who has feelings for someone else."

We focused on eating and I filled myself with the comfort of food and alcohol, wiping my mouth when I couldn't take another bite.

"He'll be disappointed." I chuckled with the last swallow of wine, my glass clinking against the table as I set it down.

"Your dad?" She questioned. I hadn't exactly been clear and the statement could have applied to any of the men in my life.

With the table covered in empty containers we turned toward each other to talk. "The next soulmate. I think he could be the most handsome man in the world and I still wouldn't want anything to do with him. I don't think I can handle another love story. Plus, I need to focus on taking care of my dad." I was assured.

"He's the last. Maybe he'll wait until you're ready for it." She shrugged and I didn't give her comment any weight. I'd had enough of it all for now, of the soulmates and emotions of every gut punching twist of fate.

Sleep consumed me in the middle of our talking, so much so that I didn't remember her getting me onto the couch until I woke with my cheek against a pillow the following morning.

To my surprise, Faye was already up, her schedule surely adjusted by the sounds of the city. I remembered her complaining about the woman who sang too early and too loudly on the stoop across the street when she first moved, her window now open to welcome the sound as she hummed behind the tune with a mug pressed to her lips.

There wasn't much time before I needed to arrive at the airport for my flight into Rochester. Still full from our previous feast, I settled on having coffee and snacks provided by the airline to get me through the six hours until landing.

Minnesota was just as cold as New York but with a wind chill that reminded me of my time in Chicago. Through the reflection of my seat in the cab that took me to my dad's apartment I could see the pink flush of my cheeks and tip of my nose starting to show. He wasn't home but left a spare key under the doormat, already at a chemotherapy appointment that started before my arrival.

The apartment was average, plain walls and limited furniture that told me he was only interested in essentials. I left my bags by the door, going through a quick wash and change of clothes before stepping back out into the city to walk the few blocks to the clinic.

It was easy to find with the help of my phone and I wiped off my shoes at the front entrance, the security officer who stood next to the metal detector giving a friendly smile as they sifted through my bag.

The elevator made several stops on the way up to the floor for oncology and hematology, people trickling in and out until I was nearly pushed to the back corner. I stood there until only myself and a man were left, keeping my eyes forward as he thumbed through a file balanced on his palm.

He looked back to where I leaned against the railing as the floor before mine dinged, giving a simple nod of acknowledgment on the way to his destination. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was alone again, resolving to release the tension I felt every time someone new approached.

I hadn't even reached the welcome desk outside of the infusion area when a nurse stopped me. She sported a bright smile and had eyes that were kind but tired, her thick accent just as cheery.

"Seline," she opted for a elbow bump rather than a handshake since hers were full of supplies, chuckling at the confused look in my eye, "I recognize you from the pictures your dad's shown me. I'm usually his nurse when he comes in for a visit." She spoke just as fast as she moved, nudging her head in the direction of the unit.

She lifted her hip so that the badge she wore was scanned by the black box on the wall, thick double doors opening to the treatment center. She kept talking, first to give an update to another nurse and then to me again, an obvious expert in multitasking.

"I'm Julia. He's been taking the treatment really well so far, says the fatigue is the worst. I just got him set up about an hour ago." She continued as we breezed past lines of recliners. They moved down both sides of the room, patients sitting comfortably with their eyes on the TV or while chatting to those who accompanied them. One man was nearly covered in knitted garments, a hat snug on his head and a thick blanket covering his lower half while he focused on the two needles that worked together under his fingers. Others pulled their privacy curtains back to sheild from the noise and scuttle of nurses who moved from their stations to perform vital checks.

It was overwhelming but I put on a brave face for the first time I'd see my dad in this setting, looking up at the flourescent lights to blink away the tears that stung behind my eyes. We walked to the row farthest from the entrance and that was completely closed off by a drawn curtain, the laughter that echoed through the fabric hinting to the reason.

"Sometimes I have to sit these two at the back of the class like a middle school teacher." She giggled, metal rings scraping against the rod when she tugged the curtain back.

Two heads shot up from the end of the lined chairs and there they were, my dad and my soulmate. They sat next to each other with the same look of being caught, in identical recliners and with matching IV lines pumping medicine to their bloodstream.